Dead Eyes
by kaizokunami
Summary: KotOR 2: Atton angst and spoilers. When his mind was opened by a Jedi to the truth, he killed her because he loved her. oneshot


I knew what she was the moment I spotted her, almost glowing out of the corner of my eye. She had to be a Jedi; only a Jedi shone like that, and only a Jedi would be arrogant enough to walk into a bar full of off-duty Sith. Her hair was blonde, tied back in a braid, and she moved with the grace of a dancer. At least she'd had the good sense not to dress much like a Jedi, or to carry her lightsaber out in the open. I had no doubt she had it somewhere on her. They never go anywhere without their lightsabers. She was pretty, though. If she hadn't been a Jedi, I might have tried to pick her up for the night.

I kept an eye on her as she walked through the place. The rest of my squad didn't seem to realize what she was, which was probably for the best. They may have been elite agents, but most of them didn't know the meaning of subtlety. Not that I was averse to taking an opportunity if one presented itself, mind you. One less Jedi in the galaxy was always a good thing, especially one as full of herself as this Jedi was.

She sat down next to me. I kept my eyes forward, hand on my glass of juma, running pazaak totals through my head so she wouldn't suspect anything.

"I know who you are," she said. The words threw me off enough that I lost count for a moment. Her voice was soft, almost hypnotic, and I knew somehow that only I would hear her speak, no matter who was around us. "I am a Jedi. I want to help you."

I had no idea what she really wanted, or what she was thinking coming in here, but her overconfidence made me angry. Maybe I thought she was looking for revenge, or maybe I just wanted to take some frustrations out on a Jedi target who was brainless enough to stumble into range. I grabbed her arm roughly. She gasped. "Outside," I growled. I shoved her out of her seat and half-dragged her to the door. She could have resisted if she'd really wanted to. I knew that. She knew it, too. I should have known it was too easy, but I wasn't thinking about that then. I only knew I wanted to kill her for being so arrogant, so conceited.

The roar of voices and laughter from the cantina died as the door slammed shut behind me. I shoved her into the side alley, pushed her against the wall, held her there. "You said you know me, huh? You know what I am, Jedi?" My fingers lightly wrapped around her throat. No pressure, not yet. I just wanted her to know who was in control. I wanted her to know what I could do to her if I chose. I wanted her unsettled, so she couldn't use her powers.

"You're an assassin," she whispered. "But you can be more, if you let me help you."

I tightened my grip just a bit around her neck. "If you think you're trying to 'save' me, forget it, sweetheart. I don't need saving." Her hair had started to come undone, and a few strands fell across her brow. I smirked and pushed them back with my free hand. She was beautiful, and I wanted to see that pretty face as she realized exactly what she was dealing with.

"Yes, you do," she choked out. Her eyes were green. I hadn't seen them clearly before, but I saw them now, shining in the darkness. She looked scared, but there was something else – determination, maybe, or a touch of anger. Whatever it was, it was exciting.

Her pulse under my fingers was racing. This was always the best part – the fear, the pain, the moment when the Jedi realized that they were at the mercy of another. Keep them from centering their minds, and it's easy to take advantage of the distraction. "What makes you think I want to be saved?"

"You have more power than you know. You must know what Revan's been doing. She's sending Jedi somewhere, somewhere where she can break them. She'll do the same to those in her service-"

"I don't believe you."

She didn't give up easily. "Revan's using you," she coughed. "She's sending her own men off to be broken in that place as well."

"Jedi lies," I said. "Revan saved us." Part of me knew she was right. The best agents had been vanishing. I'd heard the rumors, that Revan was sending them somewhere, that they came back changed. But I didn't want to hear her, didn't want to believe her.

"Haven't you ever wondered why you can sense Jedi, and why you can hide from us so well? It is the Force, working through you."

"Shut up," I ordered, low and menacing. I brought my other hand to her neck. She wrapped her fingers around my wrists, and her hands felt so cold and frail.

Her voice was the merest whisper. "You know it's true. That's why you're so afraid. They could just as easily turn on you..."

"Shut up!" A wave of anger surged over me. I pressed my fingers into her flesh so hard that she gasped desperately for breath. I wanted to squeeze the life out of her.

And that was when I felt her mind. I had let my defenses fall too far, and she slipped in like a thief, delving through my memories, dragging out the darkest and most desperate moments of my life. And, I realized, that had been her intent all along – that was why she hadn't resisted me earlier. She'd wanted to get inside, and I'd opened the door for her.

Her presence was sheer beauty amongst the wreckage. She filled everything, the shadowy corners, the darkness that I reveled in when I hurt and killed Jedi. She showed me the brilliance of the Force. It covered everything in echoes of life and death - torture, murder, lusts and indignities. She looked upon it all, and showed it all to me in turn, opening my eyes.

The Force flickered in me, and I knew she was right. Right about everything. I was a monster. A betrayer. A murderer. I'd always known it, but she dragged it all out into the light. I saw my own eyes through hers, how dead they were. To get at Jedi, I had tortured and broken their Padawans – children with lightsabers, barely older than I had been when I signed on with the Republic. I wounded and killed innocent men and women. Humiliated and destroyed the spirits of more Jedi than I could count, Jedi broken or killed in the name of Revan, and my own anger.

Her eyes bore into mine. They were full of pity, and I loved her and hated her for it. Silently, she begged for death. If she died, the Sith couldn't torture my secret out of her. She wanted to die at my hands, as penance for some supposed sin of her own. She thought her death was a sacrifice. She thought she served a higher purpose, and she loved me even as I killed her. I felt her regret, her love, and I wanted neither.

I crushed her throat in my hands. Her breath came in ragged gulps. She was a great and terrible beauty, shining in my mind, and I was a monster, a creation of brutal rage. She was inside me and I wanted to be inside her. I wanted her. I wanted her to die.

Her pulse quickened, then faltered, and finally stopped. I felt her death – felt it in my head, and felt it in the Force, and felt it beneath my hands as they choked the breath out of her.

I held her for a moment, staring into her face, knowing the full truth of what I had done. Of what I was. Strands of her hair had fallen over her eyes again. I brushed them back, kissed her brow, and left her there.

I killed her because I loved her, or maybe because she'd loved me. I never knew her name, and I never knew her reasons for trying to save me, and I'm not sure it mattered in the end.

I didn't go back to the cantina, never saw my squad again. As I stumbled along the back alleys, I couldn't stop feeling things in my head. Guilt, violence, lust, passion, anger, fear... I couldn't close the eyes she'd opened for me. It was all around me, running through me. I tried to focus on pazaak, running numbers through my head. It seemed to help, a little, enough for me to make my way to the starport.

I booked passage on the first shuttle I could find, and wound up on Nar Shaddaa with a band of war refugees. I chose a new name. I became Atton Rand. I'd had a few hundred credits leftover, and with them, I tried to lose myself in the slums of the refugee sector. I found a bar, drank more juma than I could handle, lost even more money at pazaak, found a willing whore. I think she had green eyes. I know I wasn't gentle. Things became a blur of alcohol and women, and I abused them both.

I ran out of credits, and got into debt with the Exchange. I did a few odd jobs for them to pay it off – courier work, mostly, running spice or illegal weapons from place to place. It wasn't too bad, really. They provided ships and cargo, and all I had to do was play pilot, and run a few blockades. I was lucky, I guess. I didn't have the same pesky morals that other pilots had, and that made me valuable. I got to know Nar Shaddaa, and any number of other seedy little worlds where a blaster is the only real currency.

Even after I'd paid off my debts, I didn't have anything better to do so I kept working for the Exchange and the Hutts from time to time. I drifted from planet to planet, finding work where I could. Trying not to think too hard about who I was, or what I had been. Trying to keep my eyes closed. Trying to keep the galaxy out of my head.

You know the rest of this story. I was supposed to be transporting some goods off Peragus Station when I got thrown in jail. Some trumped up charge about smuggling a blaster on board. How was I supposed to know they'd beefed up security?

And that's when I met him. I hadn't really wanted to trust a Jedi running around in his underwear, but hey – beggars can't be choosers, right? He needed help; I needed out. It seemed like a fair trade.

Besides, I owed her one.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Although Atton tells this to the Exile in the game, he doesn't give too many details, and I wanted to write it out, and not sugar-coat it. I wanted to write it this way because it was difficult to get it out, and parts of it came to me as pure stream-of-consciousness. This was as much a catharsis for me as for my inner Atton. :)  



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